The Mary Sue short
by Therabidsquirrel
Summary: Do not read if you like unfinished fics. I dispise them myself but I was asked to post it so I did. This is the story of a would be Mary Sue, who just might learn that villians are scarier in real life, and hero's have minds of their own.


**Authors Note:** This is insanely short but I thought it was an interesting idea to work with. This is one of the many unfinished fics that I will be posting. There are others but some shall never see the light of day. This one unfortunately will. So, yeah. Suffer in silence if you will, Review if you must. Ask if you wish to carry on from here before I can. I'll let the world know if I ever do make a comeback on this sucker...

**SSSSSSS**

**Chapter 1**

To start off I should probably describe Emma Grace in the way that she would have found most fitting. She was an illustrious writer, and in speaking she always had the perfect comeback or snappy reply. Her jokes were always the most funny and her beauty was world renown. If asked to describe herself she would say that her chestnut colored hair was vibrant and full, healthy and coming to about her shoulders with the ends curling inward most beautifully. Her skin was tanned gold and she had a perfect complexion, not a freckle or hint of acne in sight. She would also say that she was a tall young woman, about model height with a perfect body that made men fall over themselves just to catch a glimpse of her. She was a goddess, a beauty, a refined creature and the absolutely most popular girl ever. Who wouldn't want to know her? According to her, she had everything including a 'hidden power'. Oh, and her name was NOT Emma Grace. It was Akemi, which of course is Japanese for beautiful. After all her parents had realized early on that she was going to be a 'pearl among swine'. And of course, because of her beauty she had a tragic past... Naturally...

Of course, this is a description that she would give in her stories that she posted on the internet daily. She had to do so under a different name and an e-mail address her parents didn't know, otherwise they'd have fits over some of the materials in a few of them. These materials were something her mother always called 'lewd and uncalled for' and in fact had unwittingly written a short e-mail to her asking if her mother knew what she was doing. Maybe she shouldn't have posted her age on her profile, but fortunately her mother had no idea that the person she had confronted was indeed her own daughter. Also, Emma Grace was not of model height, nor was she a creature of exquisite beauty. Nor was she all that dull, however her mirror and the kids at school told her otherwise.

She, being fourteen, wasn't exactly tall. Like her mother she was short in stature and unlike her mother, she still had a great deal of baby fat to grow out of. This of course made her seem, what she considered, a little stumpy. Not thin, not fat, but not exactly at a perfect medium either as far as she was concerned. And her complexion? While not riddled with acne it was a far cry from what she considered perfect as she was a pale skinned girl. And the breakouts she did have were usually concealed by the numbers of freckles covering her skin and the hair that never seemed to stay in place. This hair came to her knees, and not by her own choice. If she had her way it would be short, however her father did not believe in short hair for girls and refused her to cut it. Until she moved out on her own she would just have to deal. Also, the fact that it was dried out and almost colorless didn't help the matter any either. It wasn't like she did much with it, just pulling it back and letting it hang behind her almost like a horses tail, but it still annoyed her. It was the color of dried sand and had absolutely no character. At least, that was what she told herself.

But the worst part, she thought, was her eyes. Emma Grace was near sighted and had to wear a pair of thick, heavy, glasses. So not only did she look stumpy and characterless, but she also looked like a complete and utter nerd (her own opinion of course). This was not helped by the fact that she was failing her classes due to day dreaming all the time. The few people she would rarely talk to often either voiced concern or harsh criticism. The concern she ignored and the criticism she turned over in her head until she either burst into tears and had to flee to the washroom amidst quiet stares or cruel laughter, or she would stew over it and write it down in her journal until she got home where she would either write it into one of her stories or post it on a web-journal or some other site.

When the situation was put in her stories it was widely blown out of proportion and either dealt with by her in a violent way (because that was the only way an enemy understood that she was not to be messed with) or she would sob and cry until her one and only true love would come and whisk her away and make her forget her troubles (this is where most of the lewd material would come into play). When posted on other sites, she would usually forget to mention the rare jewel of a person who would come to her rescue, whether she wanted them to or not. Emma Grace could hold a grudge, and it didn't matter if you were a one time offender or not. Guilty was guilty and she didn't want anyone to stick up for her. It was, after all (in her own opinion) false kindness. No one, especially not her, needed pity. Anyway,she was the hero and only she could stick up for anyone in her position, herself included. Emma Grace was a sub-consciously (sometimes consciously) prideful person.

If you listened to her and did not look beyond for the truth, you would believe that Emma Grace led a horrible life where no one understood her nor did they bother to understand. She had no one at home who really cared and her parents were hard, cold, misunderstanding people who were too caught up in their own lives to care for hers. She had nothing of which to call her own and had to labor hours daily just for her food. In her own words her parents were neglectful and abusive. If you were to take her word at face value, then you would call social services and she would be taken away to a 'better life'.

However, this was not the case. For all of her complaining Emma Grace lived in a nice neighborhood where one could walk freely and without fear of being accosted in any way. The neighbors were friendly and the houses inviting, her own included. The neighborhood was an old one, which meant that nearly all the houses pretty much looked alike save for a paint job, minor changes in house design, or lawn scheme and no one had to deal with any loud noise of new homes being built or land being torn. All in all, it was a beautiful place. Her home, like so many of the others, had a two car garage off to the side of a two story brick house. Permanently parked on one side of the driveway was her fathers old mustang convertible, and what could be seen of its forest green paint under the faded blue tarp that covered it was peeling and worn. It was a sad sight to Emma Grace really and her father always swore that he'd one day fix it.

Her father, Tracy Dirk Watson, was a quiet man and rarely at home due to his job. It was not something he enjoyed, being a part of a company that regularly sent him to different parts of the country, but until he got that promotion he'd been working so hard for he would just have to deal. When he was home he was very happy and would often try to get Emma Grace to go out with him and her mother. Emma Grace, at age fourteen, found her parents boring and would turn him down. Later, online, she'd complain. Her mother, on the other hand, was a happy, often humorous woman who worked hard at work and at home. She would criticize and compliment all in one sentence and never allowed Emma Grace to stay in front of her computer for too long. This was not because she was being cruel, but because she was concerned for her daughters well fare. Fourteen-year-olds were never meant to be idle, especially for long periods of time, and as much as Emma Grace complained about her figure her mother felt that one of them had to stop disaster before it truly struck. Carolyn Way Watson, Emma Grace's mother, being the caring mother she was, gave her daughter a daily time limit on her computer, would send her outside to either 'play' or do some much needed work in the yard, and would then call her back in for supper and homework. All of this, was what Emma Grace considered harsh and cruel punishment that was clearly uncalled for. Carolyn would just roll her eyes (her own mother had done the same 'torture' to her when she was young) and later in the evening get online and read stories by people she didn't know and, unknowingly, stories Emma Grace had written herself.

Emma Grace was loved, however she did not always care to see this. She didn't always get what she wanted, but she did get what she needed; and she rarely had to complain for anything although that fact really didn't stop her in the least.

Now you may be wondering why I would go on about a girl who we in the fan fiction world would call a 'Mary Sue' due to her stories being centered around 'herself' rather than the main characters of the series she wrote herself into. My reason for doing so is this; this story is about Emma Grace. For her life as a 'Mary Sue' is about to change drastically and our dear Emma is about to learn a valuable lesson. Bad guys are a hundred times scarier in real life than they are when drawn and set into motion on a television screen, and heroes have minds of their own.

**SSSSSSSS**

It had been a dreary day, the sky gray and overcast with cold winds blowing in whatever direction they cared for. These kinds of days made most people rather glum and cranky, while the rest tended to sleep constantly. The sleepers were the ones that Emma Grace turned her nose up at in her sixth period history class where the teacher droned on and on without realizing that he had an audience of sleepers and dreamers. Not a soul was paying him any attention and he really could have cared less. It was almost time for the bell to end the day and he was looking forward to it, and Emma Grace knew it. She'd had another one of her days where she snubbed anyone who graced her with a smile, and glared at anyone who wore a sports coat and had that popular air she so detested. They all avoided her like the plague and whether she wanted to admit it or not, she liked it that way.

She sighed as she stared at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster, when suddenly her world tilted and spun. She started, her breath catching in her throat, and blinked her eyes only to watch as all the colors in the room began to melt together. Her history teacher and fellow students disappeared into the melting pot and she was suddenly on her own in a void of spinning colors. She felt sick and covered her mouth with her hands. What in the world was happening to her? Was she dying, did someone try to poison her? This last thought, she decided in an offhand way, would be a great thing to write about if she survived. Everyone would pay attention then, but still that was if she survived.

"What's happening," she dared to whisper, and she screamed as a blast of heat and light hit her. This caused her to throw up her arms and close her eyes. Therefore she was unaware when a metal floor formed beneath her and she stumbled when it came in contact with her feet. Unprepared, she fell, and was shocked to feel cool metal through the long jean skirt she'd worn that day, and surprised to hear the whirring of machines around and close to her head.

"Impossible. This... this was not foreseeable. According to my calculations this should not have happened," came an oddly familiar, and very much concerned voice.

"What did happen Gibson," came a decidedly female and curious voice.

"I'm not sure," 'Gibson' replied, and Emma Grace felt faint as she opened her eyes to see two robot monkeys, one blue with a square contraption in its hands and one yellow with pink eyes, staring at her. "But she is not native to our world." It was the blue one, definitely Gibson, who said this. Emma Grace knew this, and she knew who the yellow monkey was for sure. Much as her mind wanted to deny it, she was sitting before two members of the Super Robot Monkey Team Hyper Force Go, which was a series she drooled over constantly and watched religiously with her mother and a bag of popcorn (her mother being a fan as well). Her head began to feel rather light and the room seemed to be far away as Gibson began speaking in technical terms she couldn't even begin to understand about time line continuum flux's and faulty engineering on his own part; when the 'love' of her life walked into the room with a cutely curious look on his face.

"Hey Gibson, Antauri said something about feeling a foreign presence down here. What did you bring to life this time?" Emma Grace's last view of Chiro was a look of shock and then worry before she fainted dead away.


End file.
